Although Webb's front was the focus of the concentrated artillery fire, and he had already lost fifty men and some valuable officers, his line remained firm and unshaken. It devolved upon him now to meet the great charge which was to decide the fate of the day. It would have been difficult to find a man better fitted for such an emergency. He was nerved to great deeds by the memory of his ancestors, who in former days had rendered distinguished services to the Republic, and felt that the results of the whole war might depend upon his holding of the position. His men were equally resolute. Cushing's battery, A, 4th United States Artillery, which had been posted on the crest, and Brown's Rhode Island Battery on his left, were both practically destroyed by the cannonade. The horses were prostrated, every officer but one was struck, and Cushing had but one serviceable gun left.
As Pickett's advance came very close to the first line, young Cushing, mortally wounded in both thighs, ran his last serviceable gun down to the fence, and said: "Webb, I will give them one more shot!" At the moment of the last discharge he called out, "Good- by!" and fell dead at the post of duty.
Webb sent for fresh batteries to replace the two that were disabled, and Wheeler's 1st New York Independent Battery came up just before the attack, and took the place of Cushing's battery on the left.
Armistead pressed forward, leaped the stone wall, waving his sword with his hat on it, followed by about a hundred of his men, several of whom carried battle-flags. He shouted, "Give them the cold steel, boys!" and laid his hands upon a gun. The battery for a few minutes was in his possession, and the rebel flag flew triumphantly over our line. But Webb was at the front, very near Armistead, animating and encouraging his men. He led the 72d Pennsylvania regiment against the enemy, and posted a line of wounded men in rear to drive back or shoot every man that deserted his duty. A portion of the 71st Pennsylvania, behind a stone wall on the right, threw in a deadly flanking fire, while a great part of the 69th Pennsylvania and the remainder of the 71st made stern resistance from a copse of trees on the left, near where the enemy had broken the line, and where our men were shot with the rebel muskets touching their breasts.
Then came a splendid charge of two regiments, led by Colonel Hall, which passed completely through Webb's line, and engaged the enemy in a hand-to-hand conflict.* Armistead was shot down by the side of the gun he had taken. It is said he had fought on our side in the first battle at Bull Run, but had been seduced by Southern affiliations to join in the rebellion; and now, dying in the effort to extend the area of slavery over the free States, he saw with a clearer vision that he had been engaged in an unholy cause, and said to one of our officers who leaned over him: "Tell Hancock I have wronged him and have wronged my country."
[* Colonel Norman J. Hall, commanding a brigade in Hancock's corps,
who rendered this great service, was one of the garrison who defended
Fort Sumter at the beginning of the war. At that time he was the
Second Lieutenant of my company.]
Both Gibbon and Webb were wounded, and the loss in officers and men was very heavy; two rebel brigadier-generals were killed, and more prisoners were taken than twice Webb's brigade; 6 battle-flags, and 1,463 muskets were also gathered in.
My command being a little to the left, I witnessed this scene, and, after it was over, sent out stretcher-bearers attached to the ambulance train, and had numbers of wounded Confederates brought in and cared for. I was told that there was one man among these whose conversation seemed to indicate that he was a general officer. I sent to ascertain his rank, but he replied: "Tell General Doubleday in a few minutes I shall be where there is no rank." He expired soon after, and I never learned his name.
The rebels did not seem to appreciate my humanity in sending out to bring in their wounded, for they opened a savage fire against the stretcher-bearers. One shell burst among us, a piece of it knocked me over on my horse's neck, and wounded Lieutenant Cowdry of my staff.
When Pickett—the great leader—looked around the top of the ridge he had temporarily gained, he saw it was impossible to hold the position. Troops were rushing in on him from all sides. The Second Corps were engaged in a furious assault on his front. His men were fighting with clubbed muskets, and even banner staves were intertwined in a fierce and hopeless struggle. My division of the First Corps were on his right flank, giving deadly blows there, and the Third Corps were closing up to attack. Pettigrew's forces on his left had given way, and a heavy skirmish line began to accumulate on that flank. He saw his men surrendering in masses, and, with a heart full of anguish, ordered a retreat. Death had been busy on all sides, and few indeed now remained of that magnificent column which had advanced so proudly, led by the Ney of the rebel army, and those few fell back in disorder, and without organization, behind Wright's brigade, which had been sent forward to cover the retreat. At first, however, when struck by Stannard on the flank, and when Pickett's charge was spent, they rallied in a little slashing, where a grove had been cut down by our troops to leave an opening for our artillery. There two regiments of Rowley's brigade of my division, the 151st Pennsylvania and the 20th New York State Militia, under Colonel Theodore R. Gates, of the latter regiment, made a gallant charge, and drove them out. Pettigrew's division, it is said, lost 2,000 prisoners and 15 battle-flags on the left.